


Only The Softest Surprises

by mudkipwrites



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage, Memories, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery Skills, Routine, Self-Soothing Skills, Surprises, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23993713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudkipwrites/pseuds/mudkipwrites
Summary: Alexsandr Kallus doesn't care much for surprises. Fortunately, his husband is the softest (and most gentle) person around.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 14
Kudos: 98
Collections: Kalluzeb appreciation week 2020.





	Only The Softest Surprises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whiplashcrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiplashcrash/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to the sweet, thoughtful, and incredibly talented @whiplashcrash. Crash, you are are lovely person, and someone who has really been there for me during my recent writing burnout. It's an honor to be writing buddies with you, and I hope that you keep sharing your ideas whenever you feel that the time is right. I hope you like the angst of this mini hurt/comfort fic! Also, special shout-out to the talented @hixysticks for doing some wonderful beta-work again, and to the hilarious @dadton for coming up with the idea of pillow fort fluff. I hope ya'll enjoy.

* * *

KALLUZEB APPRECIATION WEEK 2020 - DAY 4 / MONDAY MAY 4 / "HURT/COMFORT" 

for crash (whiplashcrash) <3

* * *

When Alexsandr Kallus arrives home to discover that all of the furniture has been stripped bare, his brain races into a panic. 

“Zeb?” he calls out anxiously for his husband. “Garazeb Orrelios, are you home?”

Head on a swivel, the former ISB agent strides into their living quarters. The modest, two-bedroom home has become a well-lived-in and much-loved space during their first year together as newlyweds. Smaller than the heated caverns of Hoth, but larger still than the tree-forts of Endor, their Lira San home has quickly become Kallus' favorite place in the galaxy. Typically, his favorite part of every day is stepping inside of the door of their home, and relaxing into the sensory comforts of life with his partner: the aroma of freshly-sliced fruit and crackling wood-stove; the quiet sounds of popping candles and rumbling snores; the smoothness of hardwood and fur-coated blankets beneath his feet. 

And yet today, everything is different. _Wrong._ All of the soft, cushioned perches have been left naked and hollow. Kallus cannot see any signs of apparent struggle, and yet, all of the warm, diffused lighting of their home has been snuffed out. From the hallway towards their bedroom, a singular, soft light glows from a crack in the doorway--and it casts an eerie, skeletal glow on the bones of Zeb’s favorite wicker chair.

" _Zeb_ ?" he calls again softly, pulse raising. "Where are you? Are you _hurt?"_

Kallus takes a tentative step towards the kitchen. The wooden floorboards creak loudly, and a sudden, loud grunt comes from the bedroom. _Oh, thank the Ashla and the stars above!_ He exhales loudly, leaning against the countertop as though he is winded from sprinting a mile. _It’s all fine. Zeb is fine. He’s just sleeping._ Stuffing his shaking hands beneath his armpits, he walks carefully down the dim hallway and arrives at the door of their bedroom. 

He hesitates, knocking gingerly upon the door.

"Garazeb?" Kallus calls. "Love, are you in there? Is everything...alright?” 

When he hears Zeb’s low, sleepy chuckle, it makes his whole body sag in relief. "Sasha, izzat you?” the Lasat sounds delighted, but distinctly _muffled_. "Yer home already?” 

Alexsandr Kallus closes his eyes. Relief floods through him, yet he still needs to hear it again.

"Is everything okay?" he repeats. It takes effort to keep his voice from trembling. 

"Yeah, right as rain," his husband replies. He sounds concerned now, reading the familiar tone in Kallus’ voice. “What about you, love? Ya sound a bit rattled.” There is a sound of shifting blankets, and then a curse. “ _Karabast_! I musta fallen asleep. It’s _way_ later than I thought!” 

From the other side of the door, Kallus smiles thinly. His partner has done nothing wrong, and yet his whole body shakes with fatigue as though they’ve been sparring. _He’s just sleeping. Like a_ normal _person. At a_ normal _hour. Relax, Alexsandr._

"No, I'm just fine," he replies, rubbing at his unshaven face. "Give me a moment, won't you? Then I’ll join you in there.” 

"Okay, Kal." Zeb says. His voice is gentle and kind. "Take yer time. I’ll be here when yer ready.” 

They don't have to talk about it. He understands. Even though he’s made a great deal of progress, this is not his first panic attack since being with Zeb. Despite the gentleness of his new life, he knows that he carries a lifetime of trauma; and that this trauma requires him to be routine, careful and kind with himself whenever he has flare-ups. Zeb’s never once steered him wrong, and yet, Kallus _still_ doesn't much care for surprises. Maybe it’s because of his past with the Empire _(and the resulting nervous system that’s left him like a melted tangle of wires)._ Or, maybe, it's because he is what Ezra Bridger affectionately calls _'a-stick-in-the-mud.'_ Regardless, he dislikes the unexpected; and he often wishes that he could be more normal for his spouse.

Alexsandr Kallus sighs and walks towards the kitchen. 

Standing before the sink, he applies his set of familiar, comforting rituals: First, he soothes his exterior body by removing his heavy boots, sweaty gloves, and dusty backpack. Next, he soothes his interior body by pouring himself a cup of cool, clear water, focusing on how it soothes his burning throat. After breathing his way through a cup or two, he spends the next several, silent minutes carefully counting his inhales and exhales. Kallus knows that he's finally ready to return when his hands have stopped shaking, his heart rate has returned to a consistent rhythm, and that he can feel the sensation of the smooth, hardwood floor supporting him beneath his feet. 

Gazing at the kitchen around him, Alexsandr Kallus is reminded of the many safe, sunny afternoons that he’s spent here in this home with Garazeb. On one of the walls beyond their wooden table hangs a portrait that Sabine Wren painted for their wedding. It’s a mirror of the one that she’d first painted upon the _Ghost--_ but this time, with the addition of their meteorite rings. Beneath the portrait, a garland of dried wildflowers are carefully woven together and preserved. Zeb had gathered the flowers himself ( (lavender, crocus, marigold and white lily), presenting them beautifully to Kallus on the morning of their wedding day. 

Despite himself, Kallus feels his mouth tugging into a hesitant smile. 

His eyes trail from the flowers and to the three floating shelves of carved, wooden objects. Zeb had whittled a figure from each of the various trees of all the planets that they had visited, whether together or apart. It had begun as a joke: Kallus had asked Zeb if he could bring him back a piece of evidence from one of his Rebel missions to prove that he was still working and not on vacation. But Kallus had been so surprised and delighted when Garazeb placed the sculpture in his hands, that he’d made a habit of carving him something every time that either man was away. By this time, they have a little Loth-Cat from Lothal, a skeleton-fish from Exodeen, a beetle from Yavin, a wampa from Hoth, and even a purgil from when they’d rescued Ezra and Thrawn. 

Kallus smiles, true and genuine, as the countless stories unfold before his eyes. 

Feeling much more centered and present, Alexsandr Kallus makes his way back towards the bedroom. 

"Thanks for waiting for me, Garazeb. You’re right, I did get a bit nervous back there." He steps into the soft light, closing the door behind him. "It was strange to come home when everything was dark. Anyhow, I do hope that you haven't planned an elaborate, romantic escapade for us tonight, because after that, I'm not quite feeling quite up to it--”

He freezes. 

Like some kind of hulking, chaotic maelstrom of softness, a fortress stands tall and proud in their bedroom. It is composed of many oddly-shaped, mismatching colors and patterns, and the floorboard of their wooden bed frame seems to be employed as its main support. Many criss-crossed strips of fabric ( _is that...my belt?)_ are working to uphold a patchwork of draped, fuzzy quilts to form the walls of the down structure, and a row of soft pillows litter the floor, creating the visual of a cobblestone pathway. 

Garazeb peeks his head out from a parting within the blankets and grins. 

"Er, _Zeb_?" he asks, blinking with amusement. "What are you up to here? Are you... _playing?"_ In all of his training, he's never seen anything quite like this. 

His husband’s green eyes glitter in amusement. "That's right," he replies. "Come on in, the blankets are fine!" 

Kallus finds his mouth pulling into a smile. More often than he would like to admit, his husband stumps him with such playful gestures of affection. As silly or illogical as they seem, they are always so _sweet._ And _safe._

"What exactly is this?" 

Zeb frowns. “A pillow fort, Kal. _Obviously_ . I thought that ya might want to enjoy some snugglin' and wine with me after yer long day of work." He turns his head to the side, considering. " _Do_ ya want to? It’s certainly okay if you don’t!” 

Kallus finds himself melting at the tender gesture. He squats down to be at eye-level. "I think I just might,” he says calmly. “You say you’ve got _wine_ in there?" he inquires. 

Zeb gives him a coy, encouraging wink. 

"That's right, love. Just leave yer dirty work clothes out there, an’ come crawl in here to our very own getaway. I've got yer favorite holo, an' pizza, and _plenty_ of that good, Corellian wine ya like best. It'll be real nice. I _promise_." 

Kallus finds his eyes sparkling with tears. _Only the best. Only the softest surprises, with Zeb._

"Yes, alright," he agrees. He begins to strip, unbuckling his belt and sliding off his grime-coated trousers. As Zeb eyes him appreciatively, he chuckles, “And you say that we’re only _snuggling,_ dear?” He peels away his dust-coated socks. 

Zeb rumbles with pleasure. 

“Of course,” he says easily. “Only and whatever you want, my Sasha.” 

Kallus can’t help but chuckle as he balls up his socks and casts them aside. Kneeling down to the fluffy, pillow-cloaked entrance, he crawls into the fortress and clambers to rest on the mattress with Zeb. 

"Welcome home, love,” Zeb purrs. “It's real good to see ya." 

“It’s good to see you, too,” Kallus agrees. He buries his nose in Garazeb's broad, fuzzy chest, breathing in the smell of kindness and safety and _home_. "Sorry for my strangeness earlier.” 

His husband makes a soft noise of disagreement and tugs him closer. “Now, you _stop that,_ ” he growls, holding him protectively against his warm chest. “Quit beatin’ yerself up. Ya know that I love ya just exactly the way that ya are. Yer not strange. _Well_ \--” he holds the other man at an arms’ length-- “yer a _little_ strange. Takin’ a Lasat lover an all.” 

Zeb shifts him against his chest, and Kallus responds by leaning forward to accept the offered kiss. First, the human ones _(tenderly, lovingly, upon the mouth)_ and then the Lasat ones _(rubbing their furred, bristling cheeks together)._ After their scents have been mingled to his satisfaction, the Lasat huffs a warm breath upon Kallus' sandy head, scattering his hairs fluttering his golden eyelashes. 

“Besides, I know how ya dislike surprises. I shoulda warned ya that I’d stripped the couches. I meant to, actually--but it’s just so _cozy_ in here that I feel _asleep_.” 

Kallus feels himself unwinding, relaxing against the familiar comfort of his loved one. "Mmm. It's alright," he hums. “I can’t really blame you for that. Look at this place: it’s _perfect_!” 

Zeb has taken each plush, handmade cushion from their living space and has used it as one kind of prop or another for the soft walls of their pillow fortress. It’s not the way that he himself would have made it: the pillows are not organized in a stately row, and the integrity of the overall structure could do with some reinforcement. And yet, the squishy mattress underneath their knees is comfortable; the lighting is perfect; and squashy pillows surround them at arms’ distance, easily accessible to support oneself while lying upon their belly. _(And the company isn’t too shabby, either.)_

“It seems as though you have thought of everything,” he praises Zeb, petting a hand through his ruffled chest fur. “This is very sweet. Thank you, my love.” 

Zeb’s rumbling purr grows a little bit louder. He always appreciates it when Kallus points out the ways that he’s provided for them. 

“Aw, it’s nothin’,” the Lasat says, appearing quite proud. “I just thought that this would be a nice little getaway fer us after ya arrived home.” He pats a pillow next to him, and Kallus reclines. The Lasat shifts to gather a data-pad prepared with a holo. “Look, I got yer favorite: _Space Pride and Prejudice!_ ” 

Kallus laughs quietly. He runs his fingertips over Zeb’s resting forearm. 

“That’s _your_ favorite,” he says, emphasizing the word. “But it’s the thought that counts, I suppose, my dear.” 

His husband rolls his eyes. He reaches out to grab a bottle of beautifully purple-dark wine. 

“Is this from the year of our wedding?” Kallus asks, receiving the smooth transparisteel bottle and rolling it within his hands. It’s a beautiful vintage, and embossed with bodhi trees and Loth-cats. “This _is_ my favorite. Wherever have you been hiding _this?”_

Zeb pus, pleased with Kallus’ reaction. “I’m quite stealty, ya know,” he replies. “Been keepin’ that one from ya for ages.” 

Kallus smiles softly. “My fierce, clever warrior,” he murmurs, brushing his fingertips over the fang peeking from Garazeb’s lip. “My good protector. My gentle husband. Providing me with this comforting fortress against the day’s horrors.” 

His fingertips still for a moment, and Zeb’s green eyes flicker open. He looks down at him with concern, reading the sadness upon his face. 

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks, cupping the back of Kallus’ head. “Did I miss somethin’?”

Alexsandr Kallus feels a bit like crying again. He bites down on his lip, willing himself not to descend back into that headspace. 

“I-I just wish that I could be everything for you that you are for me,” he says to his partner. “I wish that I could be... _better._ You go so far out of your way to craft these surprises for me, and my brain is... _broken.”_ His throat tightens up, and sadness takes over. “I wish I was _normal.”_

Garazeb Orrelios makes a soft, whining sound. He gathers Alexsandr against his chest and holds him there, tenderly, as though he is fragile and he might break. 

“Don’ you say that,” he repeats once again, brushing Kallus’ hair. “Don’ ya do that to yerself. You are: _extraordinary._ You are: my _everythin’._ I can’t believe that, out of the whole galaxy, the Ashla ended up sendin’ you _my_ way. You may not be _‘normal’_ by _yer_ standards, Alexsandr Kallus: but you are my _everything._ My lover, my companion, my good-hearted warrior. And I wouldn’ trade ya for _nothin_ in the entire ‘verse.” 

He feels warm tears being wiped away by Garazeb’s hand. Sighing into his husband’s touch, he allows himself to be drawn close into comfort. 

“T-thank you,” he replies shakily. 

Zeb hums with happiness as their lips meet softly. He tastes slightly like wine, and sweetness, and only the most tender of affection. His lips are pillow-soft, like the fortress around them. His mouth melts against Kallus, like the safest, warm shelter from every storm. 

_Sometimes,_ Alexsandr Kallus thinks to himself, surprises _can_ be rather good. 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a comment and/or kudos if you have the time. <3


End file.
